


Nom de Guerre

by lady_needless_litany



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Alternate Universe, Don't copy to another site, F/M, Generic Aliens, Section 31, Star Trek setting
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-09
Updated: 2019-04-09
Packaged: 2020-01-07 08:43:00
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,494
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18407105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lady_needless_litany/pseuds/lady_needless_litany
Summary: Steve Rogers, Captain of the U.S.SShield, has never been a model diplomat; when he's tasked with a particularly delicate set of negotiations, the last thing he needs is some Section 31 agent getting in his way.





	Nom de Guerre

**Author's Note:**

  * For [skatzaa](https://archiveofourown.org/users/skatzaa/gifts).



> I realise it's a bit weird that Natasha is referred to by a different name, but it kinda makes sense, given that this is from Steve’s POV. Hope that doesn’t throw anyone. The Hydranians (which kinda sounds like an obscure type of flower, tbh) are loosely based on the Chitauri in terms of appearance.
> 
> Also, this is unbeta-ed, so apologies for any mistakes.

“It’s a diplomatic mission,” Steve explained, trying to keep a lid on his frustration. “There’s no need-”

He was interrupted by the man on the screen in front of him—Nick Fury, the head of Section 31. “Frankly, Captain, there is a need. Hydra III has been hostile for the last fifteen years. Their new willingness to interact with the Federation doesn’t change that.”

“I’m not comfortable with having Section 31 personnel onboard for no apparent reason,” he snapped back.

“Captain, it is my prerogative right to place an agent on any Starfleet vessel if I think it’s necessary. I do deem it necessary here. And I will get High Command involved if I have to.”

Steve sighed. Fury was correct. If Steve stubbornly insisted on not co-operating, all he’d achieve would be a scolding and a wrist slap from some Admiral. “Fine. But I want your word that your agent won’t get in the way of our mission.”

“Trust me, that won’t be a problem. I’m sending you one of my best agents. The Black Widow.”

He had to stifle an eyeroll. Section 31 and their codenames. “She’ll be there this time tomorrow.”

“Good. If that’s all-” Fury beat him to it, cutting the connection without bothering to sign off.

Steve squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to breathe. _Inhale, two, three, four. Exhale, two, three, four._ He respected Section 31—their skills, their contribution to Starfleet—but he’d never felt entirely comfortable with them. He resented the fact that their grey morality was now leaking into his life.

Still, it wasn’t as if he had much choice.

Fury was true to his word. It was almost exactly twenty-four hours later when his communications officer alerted him to the agent’s imminent arrival. He headed down to the transporter room, striding into it a matter of seconds before the machine powered up. The transporter hummed, a pillar of light forming and fading, leaving behind a red-haired woman, dressed in the black uniform of Section 31.

He stepped forward neatly, addressing her in a businesslike tone. “I’m Captain Steve Rogers. Welcome to the USS _Shield_.”

“Thank you, Captain.” She spoke with a veil of diplomacy, but there was a sharp edge beneath it. He could feel her calculating and assessing him. “I’m Agent Natalie Rushman.”

“Is that your real name?” he asked, on impulse, even though he knew the answer.

Natalie looked as if she were about to roll her eyes. “Of course not.”

He nodded, smiling tightly. “Alright. This way, please, Agent Rushman.”

He turned, making his ways back into the corridor, and she fell in step beside him. She didn’t speak: no questions, no explanations. Feeling the need to fill the silence, he embarked on his usual guest spiel. “We’re a _Constitution_ -class vessel, crew of two hundred and three, maximum speed of-”

“Maximum speed of Warp Eight. Seven torpedo launchers, standard deflector shields and phaser banks,” she interrupted, throwing him a sideways glance. “I know, I did my homework.”

Stung, yet also impressed, Steve nodded shortly. “I see that.”

“I know you don’t want me here, captain,” she observed bluntly, neither upset nor apologetic.

“It’s not that-” he protested weakly, pulled up short by a knowing raised eyebrow.

“Look, I’m not here to cause trouble or to get in your way. Fury gave me a job. That’s all I’m here to do.”

“In that case, we should get along just fine.” Steve stopped in front of the turbolift, turning to face her. He pulled a small PADD from his pocket and offered it to her. “There’s a briefing in an hour. In the meantime, directions to your quarters are on here. If you’ve got any questions, ask anyone and they’ll help.”

The doors of the turbolift slid open. Natalie stepped into it and flashed him a smile, one that was as insincere as it was brief. “Thank you, captain. I’ll see you in an hour.”

* * *

She’d been there, making conversation with the Chief of Security, before Steve had entered. Their conversation dropped off shortly after he entered the room, but not before he’d noted her acerbic, but not malicious, tone and the corresponding grin on Sam’s face. He’d known Sam Wilson since his days at the Academy. He was also his first officer—if he had come to trust her, which he seemed to, then Steve would give her the benefit of the doubt.

He took his place at the head of the table. The rest of the senior crew filtered in rapidly after him. In particular, he noticed Wanda Maximoff, lieutenant junior grade, a little jumpy. She was their new operations officer and was only just beginning to relax into the role.

“Okay,” he said, calling them to attention. Natalie was seated to Sam’s right, halfway down the table; he made a gesture towards her. “First, this is Agent Rushman. She’ll be accompanying us to Hydra III.”

Natalie gave a crooked smile.

“Second, I’ve decided on the team for the mission to Hydra III…” Steve continued, listing details and assigning duties. Meetings had always been his least favourite part of the job, so he went through it as swiftly as he could.

Sam interrupted him a few times for technical clarification, since he was in charge of the practical side of the operation. To Steve’s surprise, Natalie didn’t say a word. She simply listened, thoughtfully absorbing it all.

“That’s it,” he concluded. “We’ll reach Hydra III in a couple of hours, stay in orbit over night, then beam down tomorrow morning. Don’t be late.”

With that, he dismissed them. Sam hung back, as he often did.

Steve turned to his first officer. “What do you think of Rushman?”

He shrugged. “She seems fine.”

“But?” he pressed.

“Gotta be careful with Section 31. You never know what those guys are up to.”

* * *

The next morning, Steve pondered Sam’s comment as he walked the ship’s corridors. Rushman was certainly an enigma: she wasn’t the harsh, patronising agent he’d expected, but there was no doubting that she was Section 31—the best and the worst of it. A kind of terrifying competency emanated from her.

It was impossible to come to a conclusion. Eventually, he put the matter from his mind. He’d keep an eye on her, he decided, but he couldn’t afford the distraction of trying to psychoanalyse her.

The away team comprised six people: Steve, Sam, one diplomatic specialist, and two security officers. Plus Natalie, of course. They assembled in the transporter room to run through final checks.

“Remember, the Hydranians have been hostile for a long time and we don’t know how this is going to go,” Steve warned the group of officers clustered around him. “We’re Starfleet, we have to hope for the best. Trust, peace, diplomacy. We also have to prepare for the worst. Stay on top of things, understood?”

He received an assortment of nods as confirmation. In response, he gestured for them to take up their positions on the transporter pads. His own was front and centre, with Sam on his left and Natalie on his right.

“They don’t look standard-issue,” Steve stated, catching sight of her gauntlets.

“They’re not.”

He couldn’t avoid a furrowed brow— _that_ kind of thing was precisely why he didn’t trust Fury. “Is that a Section 31 thing?”

“No. They’re custom, actually.”

_Of course._ He watched as she ran through a mental checklist of equipment, patting her phaser and her baton, both holstered at her belt, to ensure that they were there.

When she was done, her shoulders relaxed infinitesimally, which Steve took as a signal that she was ready. He gave the rest of the team a cursory scan, then gave the order to transport.

His frown faded as soon as the transporter deposited them on the planet’s surface. Hydra III and the Federation were by no means strangers, which was both a blessing and a curse. They were received by a full complement of leaders and diplomats, who were accompanied by a handful of what appeared to be soldiers, armed to the teeth.

Hydranians were humanoid in form and shared many traits with humanity—their atmosphere, for example, was almost identical to that of Earth. They were, however, quite visually different. Their skin was an ashen grey, given depth by patches of bruise-like purple, and their faces had a pronounced, angular bone structure, emphasised by a set of long teeth. Most unsettling, perhaps, were the reptilian eyes—bright yellow for some, mucus green for others. It gave them a visage that was, at first, naturally intimidating to most humans. Their head-to-toe armour did little to offset the image.

Steve was pleased to note that none of his crew displayed no reaction. That could have been a poor start to the visit.

One of the Hydranians, shorter than average, approached them. He spoke in a deep, gravelly voice. “Welcome to Hydra III.”

“Thank you,” Steve replied.

He inclined his head in acknowledgement. Then, painstakingly, the formalities began.

* * *

It was another eight hours before Steve was shown to his accomodation. The Hydranians were vastly different to humans: they were sharp and lacked the courtesy humans expected, though that wasn’t necessarily reflective of their attitudes towards their guests, but their diplomatic operations were just as slow as the Federation’s. They presented a painstakingly united front, which required them to take frequent recesses to confer privately. Steve contemplated the days ahead, already that it would take longer than planned to come to a thorough compromise. The only upside was that they’d encountered none of the hostility that he’d privately feared.

Once he was reassured that his room was in close proximity to his crew’s lodgings, he breathed a sigh of relief, sitting in the edge of the bed. The room was not at all dissimilar to one you’d find on any Federation planet, though it was more utilitarian than most. A tall, thin window gave him a view across Hydra III’s capital city.

Just as he began to feel the tension easing off, there was a knock at the door. He struggled to contain a groan.

Nonetheless, he heaved himself to his feet and pulled the door open.

Natalie brushed past him, walking straight into his room. No excuse, no apologies. Which was, in a way, refreshing.

Still, it was inappropriate. “Can I help you, Agent Rushman?”

“I’m concerned.”

At her words and their matter-of-fact tone, he closed the door carefully. He stood opposite her, in the middle of the room, arms crossed. “Concerned about what? Everything seems to be going well so far.”

“There seems to be a sect of Hyrdranians that aren’t happy we’re here,” she stated. “Some of the staff and security seem uncomfortable, suspicious. A couple of them seem almost malicious, the way they’re looking at us.”

_What?_ Steve cast his mind back, scouring the events of the day for some trace of it. He came up empty-handed. _But she’s Section 31. They see things, know things, that we don’t._

He pursed his lips. “That’s not unexpected. Given the history.”

“Sure, but they’re really into the whole unity thing. Historically, it gets ugly when there’s serious disagreement,” she said, reminding Steve of the file he’d read prior to the mission. “If there’s a group that don’t like the fact that we’re here? I wouldn’t be surprised if they try something.”

He sighed. Unfortunately, he couldn’t dismiss her concerns right away. _He_ hadn’t noticed anything, but observation was her job. “Alright, saying that’s true, what’s your suggestion? How would you have us proceed?”

Her answer was ready, on her lips in an instant. “We have to continue as normal, or we risk derailing the talks. We just have to be ready and alert. As per our discussion—just even moreso.”

“Fine. Let the others know.”

She nodded, paused, then showed herself out.

While unsurprising, her observation unsettled him. She didn’t seem like the type that scared easily—if she was worried enough to tell him, then he should probably be worried too. Still, there was nothing much that he could do, so he temporarily dismissed it, hoping that would grant him the ability to sleep soundly.

Happily, it did. The next morning, however, was a different matter

Now that Natalie had raised it, he saw it everywhere. The diplomats that they were directly dealing with seemed earnest enough, but some of their subordinates seemed less enthusiastic.

And with that realisation came a disheartening inspection of their surroundings. Of course, Sam and his team had analysed the building’s exterior and known features, long before they’d put a foot on the planet. They hadn’t, however, had the schematics of the room they were actually in: the building’s atrium, soaring and expansive, all enclosed in a mixture of glass and a grey material that he didn’t recognise. In the centre of the room was a circular table, around which the Starfleet and Hydranian representatives sat; Steve was opposite the leading Hydranian, Akai-Ketar, who was particularly austere-looking. Aside from the table and a ring of pillars, the room was largely devoid of furniture, though there was a fair few staff and security personnel scattered throughout the place.

It left Steve feeling exposed, even though he had Sam on one side and the diplomatic specialist on the other. Natalie and the two security personnel were around somewhere, but were too far away to provide any real comfort.

Still, they made it to midday without incident.

They adjourned for an hour or so, during which the Starfleet delegation were escorted to a side room, so that they could eat. They ate together, around yet another circular table, conversing in a way that was pleasantly free—a bonus of being away from the strict hierarchy of a starship. Natalie made a good addition to their little group, with a sharp wit that left them in fits of laughter and an even sharper mind that provided interesting insight during more serious moments. Halfway through their meal, one of the security officers, Miller, excused himself. Steve thought nothing of it.

Until, five minutes later, there was an unspeakable row outside the room. Miller was shoved back into the room, closely followed by two Hydranian security officers. Those seated around the table shot to their feet. Out of the corner of his eye, Steve saw Natalie’s hand drop to her wrists, ready to activate her gauntlets.

“I-” Miller tried to speak.

He was interrupted. “This man has attacked someone,” one of the officers informed Steve, disdainfully. “He must leave. Or we will arrest him.”

Miller tried to defend himself. “Sir, I-”

This time, it was Steve that spoke over him. “Thank you. I'll arrange for him to leave immediately.”

Still, Miller persisted. “I was defending myself! She attacked me!”

Instinctively, Steve believed him. Miller was an honest, trustworthy purpose. _But these negotiations are more important,_ his common sense instructed him.

The Hydranian continued, “We will remain with you until that has occurred.”

Steve sensed there was no wisdom in pushing the matter. He simply nodded, though he internally flared. “I'll contact my ship now.”

* * *

Steve headed into the afternoon session with a grim face. He wasn't looking forward to facing their interlocutors, given the latest development.

Akai-Ketar arrived a moment or two after Steve; she sat, approached by the officer that had brought Miller to them. He leaned down to reach her ear, quietly explaining something to her. She nodded, decisively, and dismissed him; she had absorbed the news with impressive restraint. “I understand that there was an altercation between one of your officers and one of our staff.”

“Unfortunately, yes,” Steve replied, careful to moderate his tone and throwing in some Federation stock-phrases for added effect. “He’s been sent back to our ship. I assure you that his actions do not reflect our beliefs.”

“Of course.”

Another Hyrdranian, seated two seats away from Akai-Ketar, was boiling with anger, daring to break their zealous unanimity. “No! An attack on one of us is an attack on all of us,” he declared, eyes narrowing. “It will be treated as such.”

Akai-Ketar stood. “This is unacceptable-”

She was abruptly interrupted by a streak of energy that burned through the air, dissipating on a column.

Acting on instinct, Steve pushed his chair back, moving into a crouch behind the table. He identified the source of the phaser shot almost immediately: a rogue staff member, standing off to one side, in the process of being restrained by a trio of security.

Aside from that, the room remained remarkably calm. The only discernible change was that assorted members of security had drawn their weapons, ready to come to their leader’s defence, if need be. Six metres behind him, Natalie held her phaser at the ready. Steve pushed himself back to his feet, a little self-conscious about his reaction and thankful that he wasn’t the centre of attention.

“Remove him at once,” Akai-Ketar commanded. Externally, she seemed unphased.

As the captive—perhaps ‘rebel’ was more accurate—was manhandled out of the room, he garbled something, loudly. To Steve’s ears, it was incoherent. To the ears of the Hydranians, especially those that he had begun to notice since Natalie’s warning, it meant something more.

And, just like that, the place descended into chaos.

He couldn’t tell how many of the Hydranians were hostile. Many, but was it ten or fifteen? Twenty? Twenty-five, even? All he knew was that red phaser flashes were bouncing around the room, any one of which could kill him. And he was unarmed.

He was back on the floor, sheltered by the table. But there were rebels everywhere: firing on other Hydranians, on Akai-Ketar, on Sam, on Natalie, on their colleagues, on him. His spot wouldn’t protect him for more than a few seconds. That dictated his options.

So he launched himself forward, keeping as low as he could, and sprinted for the nearest pillar.

He made it. Just.

Once he was there, he had a touch more breathing-space, enough to properly take stock of the situation. Akai-Ketar and her colleagues had been hurried from the room, leaving Steve and his crew to face the rebels alone, with the help of a handful of loyal security officers.

Someone cursed, emphatically, and then a body slammed into his. His heart seized and he prepared to fight, only to experience an overwhelming surge of relief as he recognised them. Natalie.

“Before you open your mouth,” he said, before he really considered the words. “Now’s not the time to say ‘I told you so.’”

She gave him a look that was part disbelieving, half delighted. Not offended, at least. “I wasn’t going to say it. Some of us have more important things to do.”

“Sure,” he rejoined. His tone that felt far too light for the current state of affairs; he realised that a dropped it, peering around the column once more.

He did a headcount, as quickly as he could. There was him and Natalie, pressed against one pillar. Sam had gotten ahold of the diplomatic specialist—who, understandably, looked to be on the verge of absolute panic—and pulled her towards the other side of the room. They were sheltered behind another pillar, on the other side of the room. A few metres away from them was the other redshirt, similarly taking cover. The three of them were within a stone’s throw from the short passage that led to the building’s exit.

Steve and Natalie, on the other hand, were stuck far away from that: they’d need to rely on the transporter to get them out.

“Maximoff!” Steve snapped into his communicator, practically yelling. “Get us out of here!”

Maximoff replied rapidly, trying to conceal her panic. “Captain, we can’t beam you out while you’re in the building. Something’s blocking the signal—probably building materials.”

Momentarily, Steve squeezed his eyes shut in frustration. _Typical. There’s always something. I can see the epitaph now: Captain Steve Rogers, a victim of non-Federation-standard building materials._

“Commander Wilson, get everyone on your side of the room outside.”

Sam’s reply was instant. “Yes, sir.”

He ducked back behind the pillar, taking refuge and relying on Natalie’s barrage of phaser fire to keep him intact for a moment. While she fired shot after shot, fatally hitting several of their would-be assassins, he squeezed his eyes shut and tried to strategise. The distance between them and the corridor… the length of the corridor… the number of hostiles still remaining…

By the time his communicator chirped again and Maximoff informed him that the other three were safely on-board, he thought he’d worked it out.

“We should use the pillars as cover,” he told Natalie. “We can move around the edge of the room and get to the corridor that way.”

She paused her shooting to look at him with incredulous eyes. “It took you _that long_ to work that out?”

_Well. At least we’re on the same page._ Steve, pride stung a little, gestured for her to follow him. It was their only real option, other than surrender, so she followed him without question. They darted from column to column, moving as fast as they could. Even so, the rebels kept up a constant stream of blasts that would have killed them if Natalie hadn’t been so adept at removing their better shooters. Even in the midst of the fray, he felt a little useless next to her. His skill has in hand-to-hand combat, which had yet to be of use on that day.

But there was no time to think of that. At last, there was the opening! He tugged at Natalie shoulder, making sure that she was next to him as he ran for it.

They pelted down the corridor, making it down the first stretch, around the corner, and halfway through the second section. From there, it was a straight line to the outside. The doors that led there were tantalizingly close. Twelve, perhaps fifteen, metres.

Then the rebels rounded the corner and Steve and Natalie had to turn to face them. There were only two of them, probably the last of them all. But two could still kill them. And they were prepared to try.

In the volley that followed, a phaser blast skimmed his shoulder, singeing the skin.

A sudden interlude in the chaos—caused by the arrival of several of Akai-Ketar’s personal guards, who returned the rebels’ fire—gave him a chance to take stock of the situation.

His injury hurt like hell, but it was superficial, and he knew it. He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to ignore it.

Natalie, next to him, hadn't been so lucky. A blast to the stomach had sent her to the floor. While her uniform - Section 31 issue, thankfully, not standard Starfleet—had absorbed its lethal force, it had knocked the air out of her and send her body spiralling into a world of pain. Internal bleeding was almost certain.

All this they both calculated in the second that it took Steve to crouch next to her.

“I’m fine,” she said, grimacing. “I’ve had worse.”

“Don't count your chickens, Rushman. We're not safe yet.”

She snorted, an unexpected sound that was aborted in a grunt of pain.

Wrapping an arm around Steve's shoulders, she staggered to her feet. “We have to move.”

Instead of replying, Steve put his energy into moving forwards. The next few moments were blurred and distorted. The few remained steps between their position and safety seemed infinite.

Together, somehow, they made it. Steve felt the sunlight on his skin for a split-second; then they were within the ship’s grasp.

He released a sigh as the familiar surroundings of the _Shield_ materialised and he felt the vibration of the ship moving to warp speed. Sure, he knew that he had a hell of a lot of explaining to do to Starfleet Command, not to mention a mountain of paperwork. But they were alive. Alive was good.

Having said that, Natalie’s weight was heavy on his right shoulder and she seemed to be growing more unsteady by the second. Besides, as the adrenaline faded, he remembered that his fingers were wrapped around his own upper arm, which hurt like hell. He made a mental note to avoid Hydranian weapons in the future.

“Medbay, Agent Rushman,” Steve ordered, breathing heavily. “Now.”

* * *

Natalie hadn’t been lying when she’d said that she’d had worse—her medical file backed her up. But a blast to the abdomen was not something to be taken lightly, so Steve insisted that she remained aboard the _Shield_ until she was fully recovered. Even with state-of-the-art medical technology, it took three full days for her to be able to move without wincing.

The morning of her departure, Steve asked Natalie to meet him in his ready room before she left.

She complied, appearing just before lunch. They greeted each other amicably, any reservations long gone. In fact, after asking about each other’s injuries, they fell into friendly chat, as if they’d been serving together for months or years, rather than a few days.

It was pleasant, relaxed, until Natalie’s communicator pinged softly, a reminder that she was scheduled to leave soon.

“I should get going,” she said, visibly reluctant. “I’m supposed to be leaving in a few minutes.”

He checked the screen in front of him, astonished by how quickly that morning had elapsed. “You’re right. I’ll walk with you.”

“So,” Natalie continued as they left his ready room and began their progress towards the transporter room. “Any news of Hydra III?”

“Akai-Ketar and xir team released an official statement. They apologised and said that they ‘may have overestimated their readiness for a formal relationship with the Federation.’”

Natalie scoffed, “That’s an understatement.”

“Yeah, you could say that. But I can’t help feeling there was something we should have done differently.”

“No,” Natalie replied, surprisingly firm. “We followed protocol to the letter. You did your best.”

“I know, it’s just convincing myself that’s difficult,” he admitted. “And I’ve never been a model diplomat. Too impulsive.”

Natalie shrugged. “There are worse crimes.”

“Hm.” Steve shook his head, unable to shake the feeling of responsibility. “At any rate, tell Fury that he was right. You saved my life.”

“That’s a stretch. You’d have been fine.”

“Thanks, but I doubt it.”

They reached the set of doors that led to the transporter room. Natalie thanked him, smoothly, as they passed through them. Then she strode straight onto the transporter pad. She seemed so decisive, so professional, that it seemed childish to wait and watch her go, even if that’s what Steve instinctively wanted to do. So he turned, slowly, and began to move towards the door.

“Captain Rogers?”

He pivoted back.

“My real name is Natasha Romanoff.”

He smiled. “Good to know.”

She nodded, a slight smile on her face. Then she gave a gesture to the engineer at the control panel and dissolved into a column of golden stars.


End file.
